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by MiliusPrime



Category: Wizard101
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Funny, Kissing, Maybe a little bit offensive to diviners who have a big ego... maybe XD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiliusPrime/pseuds/MiliusPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lail waits for Kiera to come home. She does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

Only partially as engrossed in his book as he should’ve been, the creaking of the heavy oak doors easily steals Lail’s attention. Probably because he’s been eagerly anticipating the sound for the last hour. Soft silver light filters through the slat walls of the bedroom from where it spills in the open front door. Kiera’s Watchtower Hall exists in a perpetual state of soft twilight, the first Grizzleheimian stars twinkling among the cotton clouds in the dark sky.

Firm footsteps briefly tap against wood floor. There’s a creak as Kiera leans against the door frame.

“Hello.” There’s a mirth in her greeting, and in the way her hips rest against the frame.

“Hey, welcome home.” He slips a bookmark into his page as Kiera comes in the room, watching as she crosses to her dresser. He notices the sigh as she rolls her shoulders before she starts taking her armor off.

“Long day?”

_Thunk._

“By the Ice Titan’s sons, yes.”

_Thunk._

“Let me guess. Drake?”

_Thunk._

“Not this time, thanked be the benevolent Freyja.”

_Thunk._

“Hmm… Ambrose?”

**_Thunk._ **

“Correct.”

There’s a rustling of fabric as she slips off her robe and shimmies out of her leggings.

“Oh boy. What weird, life-threatening task did he ask you to do this time?”

“Investigating-“ Her voice is temporarily muffled as she pulls a thin cotton tunic over her head, “-cultist activity in Khrysalis.”

Kiera turns towards him as she fastens the clasps of the soft worn leather belt, and Lail can’t help but crack a grin at the expression of distaste on her face.

“During Morganthe’s time there, a branch of her followers were indoctrinated to ensure a loyal core to the organization. Her demise was, unfortunately, not such as to completely get rid of the effects. In her absence, this group turned to worshipping shadow magic.”

She moves over to her desk, removes the silver white diamond amulet from around her neck.

“Fortunately, I, along with a few others were able to… disband the cult before they went through with a ritual we caught them in the middle of.”

Lail can hear the disgust in her voice and feels a twinge of sympathy. He know how much shadow magic bothers her. He feels a simmering of irritation in his chest at Headmaster Ambrose. Kiera graduated months ago, he shouldn’t be asking these things of her anymore.

“Am I reading your body language right that that’s not _all_ the adventure you had today?”

Kiera regards him for a long moment, and then walks, almost _rhythmically_ over to stand in front of him.

“You seem to be proficient as ever in reading my body language Lail.”

Lail grins widely and spreads his hands out in a mock humble gesture.

“I’ve had some time to practice.”

Kiera laughs, shaking her head.

“Of course.”

She climbs onto his lap, straddling his legs between hers in the chair. He puts the book aside as she fits herself comfortably and leans against his torso.

“So what was the other thing?” He brings his hands around to rest on Kiera’s waist.

Her body is soft and warm, a testament to her well-hidden exhaustion. Most elemental wizards emit a faint aura, a slight leaking of their magic that’s healthy for keeping equilibrium inside their bodies. As such, Kiera’s usually slightly cool to the touch. For her to exude body warmth must mean she expended a substantial amount of energy today.

“The King asked me to help train new recruits to the army again today.”

She’s talking about King Valgard, bear ruler of Grizzleheim, of course.

“Have fun?”

She snorts, and he feels the movement against his chest.

“Oh yes. By ‘new,’ His Majesty meant the greenest, _youngest_ recruits. All cub rank. Most of them were hardly over ten. It went well though.”

“Once they stopped being scared of you, right?”

“What? I am not…well. Okay, fine. Yes.” He feels her frown as she rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair smells nice, like pine needles and honeysuckle.

“I have yet to find why I scare them so. I asked one once, and he just mumbled something about ‘the stories’ and practically ran away.”

She pauses, and then looks up at him, her intense green gaze boring into his imploringly.

“Have you heard any such rumors?”

“Couldn’t tell ya.” Lail shrugged. “It’s been a few weeks since I’ve visited Grizzleheim.”

He thinks it’s likely though. After all, he heard of her reputation first, long before the day they actually met in Zafaria.

There’s a lull in the conversation as Kiera seems to ruminate over this, and he takes the opportunity to lean into her embrace and run his hands up her back, thread his fingers through her wild curls for a moment, then move his hands back down to rest over the curve of her hips.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?” Reveling in the comfort of her weight against his, he failed to make a connection from her question to their earlier conversation.

“Was your experience today as ‘adventurous’,” She deliberately uses his word, “As mine?”

“Hah! I wish. Professor Balestrom assigned _this_.”

He picks up the thick book he was reading earlier and hands it to her. It spells out in bold capitals, “Diviner’s Comprehensive Guide to Enhancing Enchantment.”

“…Seven-hundred pages by Monday.”

Kiera clucks her tongue and sets it down on the table. She runs a hand up his jaw and strokes his cheek.

Her eyes sparkle with amusement.

“How difficult.”

“It’s all small text! A thousand words per page, at least.” Lail complains weakly, leaning into her touch.

“Too much for a big strong storm like you?” She teasingly runs a hand over his bicep and smooths the other one over his chest.

“Yes,” He murmured, expression the epitome of sincerity, “In fact, I think I might need some help.”

She presses soft kisses in a trail from his jaw to his chin, stopping and hovering a fraction of an inch from his lips.

“Help with what?” The words make her lips _almost_ brush against his, and he feels a hot jolt straight to his stomach.

“Uhh…” What were they talking about? He’s forgotten.

She laughs and he can feel the softness of her chest against his through the thin soft cotton.

It’s almost subconscious in the way he brings his hand up to thread into the hair and the back of her neck and pull her closer.

Kiera’s lips brush against his and an excited shiver travels down his spine at the contact. He’s very, very distantly aware of the little sparks of storm magic lightning that pop and fizz in the air around him as he responds eagerly, tilting her head to kiss her back more deeply, his hand on the back of her head pressing her gently but firmly closer.

She rubs a hand against his chest and scoots closer to him in his lap, the movement setting his nerves on fire, and his lips meld against hers a little more demandingly, the hours of anticipation of her touch having worn his patience thin. She yields, and it’s more than a little thrilling.

Lail kisses her until she gasps for air, and gives her a moment to catch her breath before he takes advantage of her open mouth. She tastes like honey and almonds, and in some distant part of his brain he’s amused. The more forefront of his thoughts are currently more fixated on her lips and tongue, and admiring the feel of running his hands over the swell of her hips. He doesn’t have enough blood left going to his brain to focus on both.

If she notices where that blood has gone, she doesn’t say anything about it. Her mouth is soft and pliant under his, and she’s raking her nails gently against his scalp.

He’s about one second away from picking her up and walking her over to her invitingly made bed when she breaks away from his mouth to trail kisses up and down his cheek.

All too sudden, the warmth and weight of her is gone from his lap and he tries not to look too dazed when he looks up at her questioningly from where she stands, her hand patting his shoulder. He likes how she looks like this, with her mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips.

“I’m hungry.” She says simply, and he laughs as she pads out of the room, hears her cross the living room and up the ramp to the kitchen. He hears the cabinet open and close, and he knows she’s getting out flour to make harvest bread.

He gets up and happily follows her path into the kitchen.


End file.
